Meat Toilet Two

The woman renamed Meat Toilet Two lies still on her chest in the endless darkness.

She only knows how many days it's been because the fucking happens during the day, and the cleaning enema she receives at the end of the day.

Oh yeah, and then in what is presumably the night-time, she gets blasted in the face at random intervals with a used condom, with such **** that it usually bursts open, spilling the cum all over her face and mouth. Her hands are trapped in the wall behind her, so she can't wipe any of it off.

As it drops off of her face, some of the disgusting semen usually makes it into her morning meal, which is dispensed into the dog bowl below her. And sometimes while eating, she discovers that the remains of a latex condom or two has fallen in there too, and then she has to remove it with her teeth, and toss it to one side of her small silent cell.

That's right - she can't see anything, she can't hear anything except her own voice, and she can't smell anything except the food that arrives in the dog bowl in front of her, and the semen that gets mixed in. Essentially, 99% of her attention, and, well, identity, is now focused on her butt, her vagina, and her anus.

Today her holes are already so well-used from a thorough day's frequent fucking that they aren't closing up properly any more. Her assailants had been particularly keen to use her asshole today, and it feels like it's just staying gaped wide open like a train tunnel entrance.

Hopefully, that was the last of it for today. It felt like a long time had passed, so hopefully it was now just enema time, and then a night of rude awakenings as she is battered in the face by used condoms. But at least, no more sodomy. At least until tomorrow.

Unfortunately, her hopes are dashed when she feels a hard penis slap placed inside her open right hand, hand in place next to her left, just above her butt. Instinctively, her fingers close around it. Although, she immediately wishes that they didn't. Now she feels like she's just communicated that she's an obedient slut who will just happily service any penis that presents itself to her.

When the penis tries to move in and out of her hand like it's fucking her fist, she immediately opens her fingers to reject it.

Of course, like most things, she can only exert her will so far. The man's own hands come down to reclose her fingers around his dick, and hold them there. He begins to move his penis forward and backwards inside her enforced grip, like some sort of reverse handjob.

But she knows this is only the beginning. This is simply him taunting her, establishing a shared understanding of his power over her. Directly below his cock and her hand, her most intimate and sensitive of parts are exposed and ****, as if presented to him for use on a silver platter. Right now, this mystery man owns her body. At least, the parts of her body that he cares about. The rest of her body, the parts of it inside this silent dark cell, do not matter. They might as well not exist. To the man behind her, whose rock hard dick she is gripping, she is simply a butt in a wall, to be used and fucked.

A 'Meat Toilet'.

Of course, in reality, this Meat Toilet still has feelings. She has emotions, preferences, and desires.

When the man removes his penis from her hand, desires such as please don't fuck my ass, please don't fuck my ass flood her thoughts. In fact, she's so **** at this point, that she speaks out loud to the soundproofed room.

"Please don't choose my ass!"

But, as a Meat Toilet, she has no way to communicate this plea to the anonymous man behind her, preparing to choose a hole.

And, as if the universe willed it, to further drive home her complete and utter lack of agency, the man sinks his shaft into her gaped asshole. In its weakened state, it provides exactly zero resistance against the incoming penis. Yes, despite its owner's true feelings about the matter, the message that this asshole gives to its new abuser is 'hello, please come inside, you're very welcome here'.

Her soundproofed cell begins to fill with sounds. Not dignified sounds, but sounds nonetheless. Specifically, the strangled, pained squawking of a woman having her already ruined asshole ruthlessly hammered by a fresh new energetic assailant.

No matter how exhausted her sphincter gets, the men who arrive stay fresh and envigored, enabling them to go full-throttle with their fearsome thrusts into this Meat Toilet's battered backdoor.

Her noises are completely involuntary at this point - there's no way to experience your twentyish assfuck of the day without wailing into the abyss like a banshee being dragged into an eternal void.

And much like an eternal void, there is nobody else around to hear her screams.

All the people who come to use her holes seem to be young men. This has its pros and cons.

The cons include that they have lots of energy and strength, and have no qualms about using it. Also, more often than not they seem to be keen to exploit this unique opportunity to engage in anal sex - most of their girlfriends probably say no.

There are pros, though. The main one being that they only tend last a few minutes, tops.

Indeed, it has probably been less than 45 seconds when this lad surges forward, slamming the tip of his dick into the entrance to her rectum, and unleashing his swimmers, who are inevitably disappointed not only to find out that they're being caught by a condom, but that they were never in the right hole for reproduction in the first place.

With a rather unceremonious pulling out, so ends her only form of interaction with another human for another indeterminate amount of time. She knows that the man will be removing his used condom, tying the tip, and adding it to some collection to be saved for later so that it can be fired into her face later tonight. But she can't hear or witness it happening in any form.

Because this is what she is now. A butt in a wall. Unseeing, unhearing, but still very much feeling.